


The One with Erestor and Glorfindel

by scythe_lyfe



Series: Love from Imladris [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scythe_lyfe/pseuds/scythe_lyfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first in a collection of stories exploring the romances of Tolkien's characters in Middle Earth connected by the time each has spent at Imladris.  Glorfindel began courting Erestor before the fall of Gondolin, but death changes his perspective and his priorities.  What will happen when they meet again?  Can love conquer doubt?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> melethen = my love  
> thel neth = little sister  
> tôr nin = my brother  
> mae govannen = well met  
> hiren = my lord

The bright noontide sun glinted off the long practice swords as Glorfindel and Ecthelion completed their sparring match. "So you have bested me again, Glorfindel, I am beginning to rue having trained you so well!"

  
Glorfindel laughed along with his friend's teasing, "Indeed, though 'tis hardly worth bragging about when you are so distracted! Had I known what marriage would do to your swordsmanship, I would have gone to greater pains to convince my sister what a scoundrel you are!"

  
"Funnily enough Anoriel was just complimenting my swordsmanship this morning," was Ecthelion's bawdy reply, and he was only spared the retaliatory scuffle by the approach of the Elf-maid in question.

  
"Luncheon is ready in the main hall! Who is that with you melethen? Do ask him along."

  
"Am I so easily forgettable, thel neth?" Glorfindel called back.

  
Anoriel giggled, "forgive me, tôr nin, you paused your incessant chatter long enough for me to mistake you for someone else! Please join us for lunch, Glorfindel."

 

  
Glorfindel sipped appreciatively at the lemonade his sister had made especially for him and smiled. Despite his eariler teasing, he was glad his friend and his sister had found happiness in marriage and it was clear they loved each other deeply. He was also grateful for the tranquil warmth that suffused their home, needful as he was of such respite since the tension at Turgon's court grew by the day. So relaxed was Glorfindel that he did not notice they had been joined at the table by another until a servant had placed his plate before him and, as he looked up to thank the Elf, caught sight of the youth who sat to the right of his sister. He was pale and slight of build, with dark hair and brown eyes reminiscent of Ecthelion, a relation perhaps? He was about to ask when Ecthelion noticed his interest, "Ah, Glorfindel, my apologies. This is Erestor, my younger cousin and newly commissioned junior advisor to Turgon. He is staying with us to be nearer to court - his parents live in the countryside. Erestor, this is Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower and my dear friend."

  
The young Elf looked up and Glorfindel found his eyes reminded him of chocolate, which he had not tasted since Tuor and Idril's wedding, the confection came from far beyond the walls of Gondolin and so was very rare. "Mae govannen, Hiren."

  
Glorfindel blinked, and realized that he was supposed to respond. "Mae govannen. Though you need not address me thusly, your cousin says I have a big enough head already." Ecthelion snorted with laughter, Anoriel rolled her eyes, and Erestor smiled shyly. Glorfindel decided he had never seen anything so enchanting.

 

  
After that, Glorfindel never passed up an excuse to spend time at the House of the Fountain, and even invented some of his own. Still, he did not see Erestor nearly as much as he would like. Given the worrying reports of fire drakes sighted in the distance and Turgon's refusal to even consider evacuation, everyone with any part in the governence of Gondolin was working long hours these days, and the junior advisor was no exception. Glorfindel almost felt guilty for thinking of romance at such a time, but he could not help it - there was something about him. And besides, while he was not as confident as Turgon, he knew the strength and valor of Gondolin's warriors. The counsel of greater Elves than he went unheeded by Turgon King, why not indulge himself elsewhere? When Turgon realized his folly, Glorfindel would still be ready to fight.

 

  
And so the weeks passed, summer approached, and Glorfindel of the Golden Flower struck up a friendship with Erestor of the Fountain. Despite their many differences, they found they had much in common - both enjoyed music but eschewed dancing, both believed the Feanorians should set aside their pridefulness and seek the forgiveness of the Valar, both preferred brandy to wine. Ecthelion noted his friend's interest, and indeed approved. It was Ecthelion who convinced Glorfindel to ask Erestor to accompany him to the feast of Tarnin Austa and it was Ecthelion who counseled Erestor to accept Glorfindel's courtship.

 

  
When the armies of Morgoth were first sighted approaching the border, Ecthelion and Anoriel were trysting in an orchard, Erestor was conducting research in the palace library, and Glorfindel was in the bath. When the alarm sounded, Ecthelion was deciding on his finery for the evening, Anoriel was chiding him to hurry up, Erestor was asking Idril how she knew she was in love, and Glorfindel was humming happily to himself as he plaited his hair in the mirror, confident that his evening with Erestor would go well.

 

 

As he raced after Idril to gather what civilians they could and evacuate, a detached part of Erestor pondered how strange it was that more had changed in Gondolin in that moment than had in the past century. Then a more immediate thought occured, reminding him that Glorfindel would be rushing to meet whatever foes were coming, and a dark terror overtook him as he realized he might never know if he was in love with him. On the heels of that terror came a determination that no sacrifice that day, from Glorfindel or anyone else, would be in vain, and he redoubled his efforts, rounding up scribes and courteseans and artisans and Elflings and leading them toward safety.

 

  
Glorfindel and Ecthelion rode out with those they commanded, Anoriel stayed behind with other novice warriors, a last defence for those who fled. When they saw the Balrogs and Dragons amongst their foes, the mighty Elf Lords knew with grim certainty that they would not see their loved ones again until the were reunited in the Halls of Waiting or in Aman, but they counted their sacrifice worth it if it enabled others to escape. Ecthelion fell first, the third Balrog bested him at the last and his fëa joined the multitudes that went to Mandos that day.

  
Glorfindel saw from where he struggled alone against a dozen or so Orcs, and was filled with a vengeful wrath. He cut down Orc after Orc, Troll after Troll, and for some time it seemed that he would survive the battle after all. Then he saw Idril, at the rear of a long line of refugees, and the Balrog that pursued them. He broke away from the main battle and hurried to intercept the terrible fire demon. He was driving the foul creature back, but he was exhausted and in agony, the Balrog's flames heated his armor 'til it burned him and his body screamed in protest with every stab and slash and parry. When at last he drove his fiery opponent over the edge of the cliff, he had no strength left to run back. As the Balrog's whip caught his hair and pulled him down, his last thought was a wish for Erestor's safety, and a regret that the charming young Elf would never know how much he cared.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fëa, fëar = soul, souls  
> hroä = body, corporeal form

Lord Nàmo paced his halls, much to the chagrin of his wife who bade him relinquish his hroä if he could not keep still in it. He knew something must be done about the whole Glorfindel situation, but so far he remained oblivious to any solutions. The warrior of Gondolin had been judged worthy of release, an easy decision by all means, but his fëa remained unhealed. This was due to his loneliness in the Halls and also to a sense of guilt that frankly left the Vala of death baffled. His loneliness was easy to understand - most of Gondolin's fallen had been reunited with their loved ones almost immediately, whereas Glorfindel, who had left the rest of his family behind when he and his sister quit Valinor, had only Anoriel and Ecthelion, and for some absurd reason deemed himself unworthy of their succor.

Forcing himself to calm down, Nàmo did a brief survey of his domain: the gates where the newly deceased were greeted and comforted by Maiar, the common halls where the fëar could associate with each other, the quiet sanctuaries constructed by his sister, Nienna, the chambers where fëar were prepared to be reborn (or in rare cases reimbodied). It was here where the Feanorians, Maeglin, and others who had done great wrongs toiled for their redemption, and it was that thought that led Nàmo back to Glorfindel and his thrice-be-damned guilt.

Ecthelion and Anoriel were ready to be released, but refused to leave Glorfindel behind, and Glorfindel would not heal. He knew that Glorfindel had been courting an Elf named Erestor before his death, and he had gone so far as to ask his wife if Erestor could be called to his halls, and she had rolled her eyes but in the end she condescended to ask Iluvatar who had answered in no uncertain terms that such an act would go against his will. Being a Vala, Nàmo knew the Erestor was currently residing in Eregion and that the city was doomed to fall, but for some reason it had been decided that Erestor would escape.

  
He was about to regain his form so he could slam his head against the wall, when the summons from Manwë arrived. Well, there would be plenty of time and doubtless more reasons to do so later.

 

The meeting in Taniquetil was indeed grim - Sauron, former lieutenant of Melkor, had ensnared nine Kings of Men with his rings of power and they had fallen into thralldom as wraiths, presenting a new and terrible danger to the Children of Illuvatar in Middle Earth, for few remained who could contend with such foes.

Nàmo was half listening to the debate on which race would be best suited to destroying the one ring of Sauron (after all he had no stake in Middle Earth) when the solution came to him. In that moment he could have kissed Morgoth himself! Instead he sat quietly but looked pointedly to Manwë, waiting to be recognized by the King of the Valar.

  
"And what is your counsel, Lord Nàmo? Rarely do you concern yourself in such affairs, I am keen to hear you speak."

 

"My lord, I propose that Glorfindel of Gondolin be returned to the Eastern shores. He can find no peace in my halls, but is most worthy of a return to life. Since I cannot release him to Aman, let us instead strengthen the ranks of those who stand against Sauron in the Hinter Lands. He is one who could withstand these wraiths of Men."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking a bit of liberty with the timeline here, since the Ringwraiths don't appear until after the fall of Eregion, but it's plausible Nàmo knows about them before the Elves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pen neth = young one

Erestor quickened his pace when he noticed Celebrimbor seated in the gardens - the scion of Fëanor might have stopped lusting after him long ago, but he still made Erestor uneasy, as did his near constant companion, the Lord Annatar. There was something just not right about the visitor, something that reminded Erestor of Maeglin after his return from Angband, but having no proof of any misdeeds, Erestor could do no more than exercise caution around the pair.

 

  
After the fall of Gondolin and the death of Glorfindel, Erestor had taken to the road and eventually settled in the newly built Eregion where he worked as a librarian. Galadriel, who knew of his service in Gondolin and his skill in diplomacy, had beseeched him to join the council, but to work again in the government would only serve to remind him of his once bright future and how cruelly and quickly it had all been lost, and so he refused. He excelled as an archivist, and found some measure of peace in his solitary work.

  
Where once he had been merely shy, he was now cold, determined to never again have anything he could not bear to lose. When the eagles had returned Glorfindel's body he had finally been certain of his feelings and as the mangled corpse was buried in the earth, Erestor had buried the remains of his heart in ice. He had lost most of his family in Gondolin and was the last of the House of the Fountain to walk these shores. Galadriel had tried to be a friend to him, but she her first duties had been to her young family and the governing of Eregion, and then she had left for the woods of Lorien. Erestor had been briefly tempted to follow, but he had reminded himself that attachment was the very thing he hoped to avoid and had stayed in Eregion, now very much alone.

 

  
Some hours later, Erestor was sorting through a shipment of books concerning metallurgy, when he was quietly interrupted by the apprentice minstrel, Lindir. Lindir was perhaps the closest thing Erestor had to a friend in Eregion - born after the dawn of the second age, he had no experience with the tragedies that had marred the first, and thus could not remind Erestor of his pain. He also understood the archivist's moods better than just about any other, and on rare occasions they could be found playing chess together, when the natural need for companionship overwhelmed the elder Elf. Presently, he was standing quietly at the end of the row of shelves, wearing an expression that was several shades too serious for Erestor's liking.  
Erestor finished his chore and walked to stand before the youth. "What is it, pen neth? You seem somber this eve, indeed I would expect you to be making merry in the dining hall right now."  
"I fear I am in no mood for merriment after what I learned in the gardens this afternoon. In truth I might be doing wrong in speaking to you and not the Lords of this land, but I have ever held your wisdom in the highest regard and I am in need of both your wisdom and someone I can trust implicitly. We may not be close, and I have always respected your need to keep others at a distance, but I still count you as a friend, and I trust you to guide me now. May we continue this conversation somewhere more private?"

  
Erestor's sense of foreboding continued to mount as he led Lindir to his private office, a small room off of the main library. He bade the minstrel sit and poured two cups of tea as Lindir began to recount his disturbing encounter. What little color resided there drained from Erestor's face as Lindir told of how he had seen the Lords Celebrimbor and Annatar in the gardens as he practiced his lyre. They paid him no mind, and at first it had not been his intention to eavesdrop, but then he had heard mentions of Harad and fascinated as he was by foreign cultures, Lindir had sought to listen to the rest of their conversation. Yet it was not the Southrons' customs that the Lords debated, but their weapons. Celebrimbor was skeptical of the merits of their curved sabers and had told the visiting Lord in no uncertain terms that he would not divert resources to forging them. After the son of Curufin had walked away, Lindir had borne witness to a startling transformation, as the self-styled Giver of Gifts' eyes had seemed to flame with his ire, and as he looked at the retreating Elf Lord he had muttered "then perhaps you shall die by them."

  
"This is indeed grave news," began Erestor, after he had regained some composure, "and ill-timed; my instinct is to take counsel with King Gil-Galad, who was mistrustful of Lord Annatar from the beginning, but he has just departed for an extended tour of Númenor. I do not wish to send a message with an official courrier as this could draw unwelcome attention. I think your impulse to keep this close for now is a good one, we do not yet know what we are up against, and Lord Celebrimbor has been Annatar's devoted pupil for many a year now - he might not believe you and that would complicate this situation tenfold."

  
When Erestor had mentioned the problems posed by communication, Lindir's mind had immediately turned to a pasttime from his childhood - Lindir's aunt was part of the Wandering Companies and was frequently abroad. Much to the Elfling's delight, she had taught him how to train birds to carry short messages so that they might exchange news. Lindir had been a most curious child and had reveled in his Aunt's detailed descriptions of life in Umbar and Harad and even Rhûn. Now he thought that this skill might be put to more serious matters, and broached his idea to Erestor.

  
"Master Erestor, if I may, as an Elfling I learned to train birds to carry messages over long distances, to commune with my aunt in the Companies of Gildor. I wonder if this might present a solution to the matter of corresponding with the King?"

  
Erestor stared at the young Elf and for a rare moment his eyes lit up in something like their former glow. It was a simple, brilliant solution to their problem. Erestor was of course familiar with the concept of messenger birds, but was not himself proficient at it, and did not want to seek the aid of a pigeon keeper for the same reasons he eschewed a courrier. Lindir's unexpected skill was a most welcome boon, and Erestor was admittedly impressed by his quick thinking. "I think that is a perfect solution, pen neth. If I may say so, I think you will not only be a master musician in your future, but play some role in the running of Elven realms. Your innovation shows some aptitude for such work."

  
Lindir merely nodded and promised to have a bird ready within the week, but the entire countenance of the unknowing future Seneschal of Imladris was alight from Erestor's kind words, so seldom heard. For a few moments, the shadow receded from the archivist's office as the two Elves, the two friends bid each other good night.

 

* * *

 

 

Three weeks later, the High King sat at his desk with a grim expression and called for a page.

  
"Yes, my Lord?"

  
"Bring me Lord Elrond, I much desire his counsel on a matter most serious." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peredhel = half elf

Elrond Eärendilion crossed the threshold to King Gil-Galad's private office, still trying to clear the sleep from his eyes and assume his usual calm, business-like demeanor. Gil-Galad noticed, and wished for the thousandth time that the young Peredhel could have been born to better days. He had no great powers of foresight, but Elrond's life had been chaotic almost since infancy, and even he could see that the road ahead of the half Elven Lord was long and arduous. By the time he was seated across from his King, Elrond's professional mask was in place, and with an inaudible sigh, Gil-Galad turned his attention to the matter at hand.

  
"I have received disturbing tidings from one in Eregion, and I would like your thoughts on this matter. We have spoken together of your past before, and I have been ever grateful for your help in understanding those who we both call kin. What I need to know now is what, if anything, Maedhros and Maglor might have said of their nephew by Curufin."

  
Elrond blinked, still moved by the High King's earnest desire to comprehend seven Elves who most considered coldblooded killers, and two of which Elrond had called 'Uncle' and had gone to for bedtime stories and to be held after nightmares. "You are most kind, my Lord, and I hope one day we can greet the Fëanorians together, whole and healed, on the Western shores. As for Celebrimbor, they did not know him well, but I do recall them expressing relief that he was less headstrong than his sire. It is oft said that Curufin was most alike to Fëanor and from the tales of Maedhros and Maglor I would believe it, and while he has his pride and his craftsman's ambition, they thought Celebrimbor to be more reasonable and quicker to see his own folly."

  
Gil-Galad exhaled, allowing his posture to slacken in his relief. "If this is true then it is good news indeed. Master Erestor wrote that a youth had confided in him to overhearing an exchange between Lord Celebrimbor and Lord Annatar. Where before I had naught but my own instincts to make me wary of Lord Annatar, there is now much more, for the youth, Lindir, witnessed his rage when Celebrimbor declined to make Haradrim weapons, and heard him speak to himself of Celebrimbor's death by a Southron blade."

  
At this, Elrond could not help but gasp. The end of the First Age was a wound not quite scabbed over for many Elves, himself included. Certainly he had known none to wish death to any of their kindred, even in jest.

  
Seeing that his Herald understood the gravity of the situation, Gil-Galad continued, "what concerns me the most is Lindir's description of Annatar's eyes in his anger. He spoke of liquid fire, and I am glad that Erestor saw fit to include that detail, for I fought in the War of Wrath against all manner of foul opponents, and Lindir has described the eyes of fallen Maiar."

  
"Sauron!" Was Elrond's whispered exclamation, and Gil-Galad nodded.

  
"Yes, I fear it is Sauron, Lieutenant of Morgoth who has, in his fair disguise, befriended the Lord of Eregion. I am heartened, though, by your conviction that we can open Celebrimbor's eyes to this threat. As soon as we have finished negotiations with your Mannish kin, I bid you go to Eregion to this end. You may have whatever supplies you deem necessary and take a company of troops with you."

  
Elrond bowed in acceptance. He would have liked to spend more time with the descendants of his departed twin, Elros, and he was especially disappointed to be missing the Midwinter festival as he quite enjoyed the jovial festivities that were so unlike the stately affair back in Lindon, but he was never one to chafe at the constraints of duty. "As you wish, my Lord. If I may, however, I would like to ask a question?" At Gil-Galad's nod he continued, "this is not the first time you have spoken of Erestor of Eregion, and though he is a mere archivist he seems to have your utmost trust. I do not question your judgement, Majesty, but I admit to being curious. Who is Erestor that you trust him so?"

  
Gil-Galad smiled ruefully before replying, "before he was Master Erestor of Eregion, he was Lord Erestor of House of the Fountain of Gondolin. He was quite young when Gondolin fell, and had been serving as a Junior Advisor to Turgon for only a handful of months, but his brilliance was already clear. Indeed, my great Aunt Galadriel pressed him to join her court in Eregion, but he had lost everything and the joy was gone from his life. He wanted nothing more than his quiet work in the archives. Indeed it surprises me that he has not sailed, but I am glad of it."

  
"Gondolin," Elrond repeated the name of the fabled city with wonder, "I have met so few survivors of that city, and it is true, most of them have sailed. I pray to the Valar that Elfdom will never again know such tragedy."

  
Yet again, Gil-Galad wished he could shield his young Herald from the tragedies of life, but he could only lay a comforting hand on his shoulder and whisper solemnly, "I do as well."

 

  
The King and his Herald were about to retire for the night when a page rushed in, bright-eyed and out of breath. "My Lords," he bowed, fighting to steady his voice, "Lord Círdan has just arrived, he says he must speak to you immediately, and he specifically requested that Lord Elrond," the page acknowledged the Peredhel Lord with a bow, "be present."

  
Elrond and Gil-Galad exchanged nervous glances. Anything that brought the venerable shipwright to their residence in Númenor requesting an immediate audience at this time of night must be urgent indeed.

  
Inhaling deeply, Gil-Galad dismissed the page, "tell him we will be with him in five minutes' time."

  
The page bowed again and set off at a run.

  
Turning to Elrond, and looking thoroughly careworn, Gil-Galad muttered, "I swear, after today it would not surprise me if Manwë himself should show up and demand my counsel."

  
Then he donned his crown and adjusted his robes, and the fair countenance of Ereinion Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor in Exile, was again a mask.

 


	5. Chapter 5

As he was expecting Círdan to inform him of nothing less than his impending doom, it took Gil-Galad a moment to register that the shipwright was, in fact, bearing good news. It seemed that, right when they needed it, the Valar had sent them an unlooked-for boon in the form of the mighty Glorfindel of Gondolin. The renowned warrior was tasked to serve Elrond, the great-grandson of his former king, and awaited him in Lindon. Regaining his bearings, the King fulsomely thanked his old mentor and had him shown to a guestroom for the night. Elrond, who at that point was struggling not to yawn, gratefully retired to his chamber. After a quick prayer of thanks to the Valar, Gil-Galad followed suit.

 

* * *

 

  
A month later, Glorfindel sat on a high balcony in Lindon, staring morosely out to where the light grey sky met the steel grey water. While he was glad his return would allow his friend and sister their chance at rebirth, he still did not want to be there. Every scent, every sound, every sensation served only to remind him of what he had lost, of what he could have prevented. For after his death, Glorfindel had come to believe that he did not try hard enough, that if he had been more focused he could have found a way to convince Turgon to evacuate and the people of Gondolin, if not the city itself, would have been saved. But no, he had been too preoccupied by warm laughter and melted chocolate eyes. Love had made him weak, and he was determined never to succumb again. And yet, when he was alone at night, surrounded by the complete foreignness of another time and place, it was Erestor's face his mind's eye conjured, and he would at last fall asleep with thoughts of those chocolate eyes glowing with affection, as they had so long ago.

  
Realizing where his thoughts had wandered to yet again, Glorfindel roughly forced his attention back to scanning the horizon. As if Erestor would still want him, he savagely reminded himself. Erestor had always put his duties first, Erestor had even helped Idril with her secret escape plans. What could such an Elf want with Glorfindel, the warrior who failed Gondolin?

  
After a few more minutes passed before Glorfindel spotted the white sails of the High King's flag ship and started down to meet the King of the Noldor and his Herald. He met Elrond and his small retinue at the dock, but was surprised to see that Gil-Galad was not among them.

The Peredhel Lord noticed his confusion and was quick to inform him, "His Majesty's presence is still required in Númenor, but I can assure you he was overjoyed to hear of your return, Lord Glorfindel."

  
Glorfindel blinked at the preemptive reassurance and then knelt before the half-Elf he had sworn to accept as his Lord and promised, "as I served your father and grandfather I now pledge myself to your service, Elrond Ëarendilion."

  
Elrond bade the golden Elf rise and spoke softly "he who died to protect the escape of Idril and Ëarendil need not bow before me. Indeed, I owe you my life, Glorfindel of Gondolin."

  
Glorfindel bowed silently. To a random witness it was a gesture of a legendary Elf Lord humbly accepting praise, but Elrond, ever the healer even though he had put his studies on hold to serve the King, noticed the shame in the action and wondered. After a moment passed, Elrond spoke again, "I find myself weary from travel, but there is much I would like to discuss with you. Will you join me for a private meal in my chambers in an hour's time?"

  
"Of course, my Lord." Glorfindel bowed again, then stepped aside so that Elrond and his company could pass.

Just before the palace door, Elrond looked back to see Glorfindel staring out over the bay, and again wondered at the shame and guilt that mingled with the immense sadness in the once-bright blue eyes.

 

  
Glorfindel sat in an overstuffed armchair in Elrond's quarters, nervously fingering the rim of his wineglass and inwardly sighing at his predicament. From Elrond's earlier statements, he knew that his self-depreciation could be seen as trivializing the survival of the Peredhel's forebears and so he did his best to graciously accept his new Lord's praise, completely unaware that said Lord was similarly exasperated. In his effusive praise of the returned warrior, Elrond was hoping to draw out what Glorfindel felt so damn guilty about, but the golden Elf continued to dodge the issue with such diplomacy that Elrond was forced to let it drop.

  
At last weary of trying to coax out information that his guest clearly did not want to share, Elrond turned the conversation to his upcoming mission in Eregion, "since you are a soldier and under my command, you should know that I have been charged to go East to Eregion. I do not know how caught up you are with the events of this Age, but one who calls himself Lord Annatar has befriended Lord Celebrimbor who currently rules in Eregion. His Majesty has long distrusted Lord Annatar, and now we have reason to suspect that Lord Annatar is a Maia in an Elven guise, and more specifically that he is Sauron, former Lieutenant to Morgoth. At present my goal is simply to gather more information, and possibly to broach the subject with Celebrimbor, but I am taking an armed escort in case things should take a turn for the worse."

  
With the change of subject, Glorfindel's reticence fell away, replaced by an earnestness more in line with what Elrond had heard of the Gondolin Lord's character, "I have made it a priority to be up to date on all matters of import, my Lord, and I am greatly troubled to think that Lord Annatar is truly Morgoth's Lieutenant. May I ask how you came by this information, though? I was under the impression that Celebrimbor is somewhat reclusive, and I am intrigued by how one might have unearthed him playing host to Sauron."

  
Elrond nodded, pleased by Glorfindel's interest, "indeed you may. 'Twas the account of a youth who overheard a disagreement between Celebrimbor and Annatar in the gardens that roused his Majesty's suspicion, and that account was sent to us by a dutiful archivist who is trusted by his Majesty and the Lady Galadriel. Actually, I recently discovered that he was originally from Gondolin, and of the House of the Fountain, perhaps you knew him? His name is Erestor."

  
Whatever Elrond had been expecting, it was not what followed. Glorfindel blanched, and his forgotten wine glass shattered on the floor. He lurched to his feet, eyes wild, and begged Elrond's forgiveness before running out of the room at full speed, not stopping until he reached his bed. Elrond was shocked into stillness for several moments, then he collected his wits and went to go after the Elf who was becoming more perplexing by the minute. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mellonen = my friend

Glorfindel's knuckles were turning white as he clutched his pillow to his chest, trying to hold back his sobs. Did the Valar hate him? Surely the fall of his city, the loss of everything he held dear, his own death, and his constant guilt were punishment enough? Yes, he was glad that Erestor yet lived, and was held in high regard as he deserved, but he had been hoping, foolishly perhaps, that he would not have to face him. What would he even say to him? A thousand possibilities, each worse than the last, came instantly to mind and the golden Elf moaned in anguish.

  
Elrond stopped outside Glorfindel's door, listening to the stifled weeping of an Elf who, before that day, he had known only as a hero of legend. What in Arda was going on? He thought back to their conversation, trying to pinpoint exactly when Glorfindel's demeanor had changed. Had it simply been the mention of his former home, or did he have some connecter to Erestor? He hoped it was the latter, if Glorfindel was in such a fragile state that the mere mention of Gondolin could make him behave thusly, the Peredhel had his work cut out for him. Taking a deep breath, Elrond knocked on the door.

  
Glorfindel heard the knock and frantically tried to hide the evidence of his tears. He knew his behavior was inexcusable, but he'd been hoping Elrond would be too tired to deal with him tonight. Resignedly, he opened the door and braced himself for a harsh reprisal. Needless to say he was surprised when his Lord took his shoulders in a comforting embrace.

  
"Ai, Glorfindel, I would be your friend and help you if only you would let me. Clearly I reminded you of something upsetting, and since you first greeted me I've seen the shadow of shame in your eyes and I cannot comprehend it. Please, mellonen, tell me what is wrong?"

  
Glorfindel gave a shuddering sigh, knowing that he could not withstand the other Elf's compassionate onslaught. "Very well my Lord. I do not deserve your kindness, and when you have heard my tale you will understand why, but I thank you for it nonetheless. I did indeed know Erestor in Gondolin. As you may know, my sister was wed to Ecthelion, the head of Erestor's House, and he was my good friend as well. I often dined with them at their house, and the Spring before Gondolin fell, Erestor came to live with them, to be closer to court where he had just been made a junior advisor. He was the lovliest Elf I had ever seen, and our acquaintance only improved my opinion of him. Ecthelion approved of the match, and I began courting him. At the expense of all else. Like a frivolous Elfling with his first crush, I turned all my efforts to winning his favor, when I should have been trying harder to counter Maeglin and make Turgon see reason. Erestor, despite his youth, was not so foolish, and indeed there were times when I wished he did not work so hard, that we could spend more time together. I have paid for my folly many times over, and I have sworn to let nothing interfere with my duties ever again, but my heart still yearns for him, though I deserve him not."

  
As he concluded the story, Glorfindel forced himself to look up and face the disgust and disappointment in Elrond's eyes. Instead he saw sympathy and understanding, tinged with a hint of exasperation.

  
"Glorfindel, I knew my parents and grandparents for only a short time, but I remember some of what they said about Turgon Nolofinwion. He was a good Elf and an able ruler, and I imagine things might have gone differently if Elenwë had lived for it is said that her light would draw him out like the sun does Spring blooms, but after she perished in the Ice he became increasingly insular. What he did with Gondolin echoed what he did with his own heart. He loved Idril and later Tuor, but still he kept them at arms length. His belief in the strength and goodness of Men and Elves dwindled and his thoughts turned not to victory but to preservation. If Idril had counseled him to evacuate and hide away in another stronghold, he may have aqcuiesed, but there was no other stronghold and Idril and her husband wanted to fight a battle that he no longer believed could be won. It was only at the last that he remembered boldness and passion in the face of Morgoth's evil. I doubt very much that anyone could have moved Turgon, and no one blames you for Gondolin's fall. Indeed, your heroics are praised by many an Elven bard, and embellished by many an Elven innkeeper. And you may yet win Erestor's favor - Gil-Galad says he lives a solitary life and even went so far as to turn down a position in Galadriel's court when she and Celeborn ruled in Eregion."

  
A wave of emotion swelled in Glorfindel as the ache he had carried in his soul for an entire Age was eased. He was still not certain he was free of blame, but perhaps in his grief he had taken on more than his share. His eyes filled with tears of gratitude and he turned to Elrond, his lips trembling as he spoke, "I am humbled by your kindness, my Lord, Tuor and Idril will be most proud of their grandson, and I believe they will someday sing your name as they sing of Fingon the Valiant, who fought with courage, ruled with wisdom, and healed with compassion."

  
Elrond blushed at this, the High King's young Herald still unused to such praise. "I thank you for your kind words, but please, call me by my name. I said I would be your friend and I meant it. In truth I have had little time for friendship lately, but I tire of solitude and there is much I like in you, Glorfindel of Gondolin."

  
The half-Elf held out his hand, and Glorfindel smiled tentatively and shook it. "Very well Elrond, I would be your friend as well."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ellith = female Elves

The next couple of weeks saw the two Elves often in each others' company, as they did form a true and intimate friendship. Indeed, some of the nobles in Lindon started to whisper that there was more than friendship there, so seldom had they seen Elrond enjoying any kind of companionship. The two laughed when they heard this, knowing as they did that Elrond had long preferred Ellith when it came to affairs of the heart and that Glorfindel's heart was given.

  
Glorfindel was joining Elrond's mission to Eregion, but he was not yet sure how he would approach Erestor, or even if it was wise to do so. He and Elrond had held many discussions on the subject in varying states of sobriety, but had made little progress. The only thing Glorfindel was certain of was that he did not want Elrond or anyone else to tell Erestor of his return, and Elrond agreed to this. While his name may have been the stuff of legend, few remained on those shores that would recognize Glorfindel at first sight, and he found he was grateful for this after one night where some eager gossip had learned his identity and then seemingly half the city had crowded into the tavern where he and Elrond were sharing a drink that night.

 

  
The weeks continued to pass, the friendship of Elrond and Glorfindel deepening as the icy tendrils of winter retreated from the land, 'til at last the way was safe for travel. Knowing it was unwise to delay any longer, Elrond and his company set out immediately for Eregion. Considering the grim nature of their task, the journey started off in high enough spirits, but as they neared Celebrimbor's realm Glorfindel became in turns increasingly pensive and agitated. The night before the last day of their trek, Elrond's legendary patience was at an end.

  
Taking Glorfindel aside a goodly distance from the rest of the Elven warriors, he demanded answers, "I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is wrong, mellonen, and I can no longer tolerate your behavior on such a delicate mission, it is setting the rest of the troops on edge and we cannot afford to be met with any suspicion at Celebrimbor's court."

  
Glorfindel had not known Elrond long enough to have seen his rarely unleashed temper, but he had heard the soldiers' talk, and he knew he did not want the ire he saw simmering in his friend to erupt into full blown rage. "I apologize, Elrond, I had not realized my mood was having an effect on the company. 'Tis just that I am no closer to knowing how to approach Erestor, and now I will face him in only a day."

  
Elrond stifled a huff of exasperation. He had suspected as much, and he felt that most of his friend's dilemma was of his own making. In his view, Glorfindel was guilty of nothing and certainly an Elf as wise as Erestor reputedly was would see that. He could not foresee any complications besides the archivist's shock at the return of his long-dead suitor, and wished Glorfindel would stop making such a big deal of it. "I know you are reluctant to believe your own innocence, and I will keep my word and refrain from confronting Erestor myself, but really, you are blowing this out of proportion. If he returns your feelings, the manner of your approach will be of no import."

  
Glorfindel gave his friend a weak, chagrined smile. The Peredhel was right, of course, but did he have to make it all sound so obvious? "I admit to being overwrought about this. Come, let us return to the camp. We will reach Eregion tomorrow, the rest I shall leave to the will of the Illuvatar."

 

  
Later that night as they bedded down, Elrond noticed the book the golden warrior pulled from his knapsack to read by the light of the campfire before he slept. Interested in the lore of his people as he was, Elrond knew that book. It was Fingon Nolofinwion's account of the Noldor's depart from Aman, and few copies had ever been made. Some even asserted that Fingon the Valiant would never have written anything so sympathetic to the Fëanorians, and thus it was not his work. Elrond, who had seen Maedhros' eyes soften and drift to the gold and sapphire ring that never left his hand whenever his fallen cousin was mentioned, knew better. Either way, if Erestor was truly a master archivist, he would want to look at the manuscript the reborn Lord carried with him. With a distinctly mischievious glint in his grey eyes, Elrond concluded that his plan would not break his promise to Glorfindel. "No," he murmured to himself as he slipped into dreams, "not in the slightest." 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Eldar = another name for the Elves, can refer to the entire race or the three tribes (Vanyarin, Telerin, and Noldorin) that heeded the first summons to Valinor

It was a chilly spring morning when Lindir told Erestor that Elrond's party had been sighted nearing Celebrimbor's halls. Breathing a sigh of relief, Erestor bade the youth keep him informed and returned to his task, copying a decrepit text from Valinor. He was glad the young Peredhil was there and he could go back to his quiet anonymity and pass on the issue of Lord Annatar to one more suited to deal with it. He wondered, as he was wont to do from time to time, why he didn't sail. He knew the answer, but he was loathe to admit it - how much more it would hurt to be among old friends and family if the one he loved was not there. It was perfectly possible that Glorfindel had been released from Mandos by now, but Erestor could not be certain, and so he remained in Middle Earth, alone.

A half week after Elrond's advent in Eregion, Erestor had settled back into his comfortable routine, and was certainly not expecting the knock on the door of his study late that evening, when most Elves would be retiring to their private quarters. Erestor grumbled to himself, but he knew it would be bad manners to turn his would-be guest away without even seeing who it was. "Come in, the door is unlocked."

The handle turned and the door opened to reveal an Elf with dark hair not dissimilar to Erestor's and grey eyes that shone with unusual wisdom and compassion for one so young. For this Elf was young by the reckoning of the Eldar, and had the build of a skilled warrior, though Erestor shrewdly guessed he would rather pursue other interests. He vaguely reminded Erestor of someone, though he could not think who.

The Elf bowed and said "forgive me my intrusion, Master Erestor, but I am newly come to Eregion and have heard your knowledge of the history of the Firstborn of Illuvatar is unsurpassed by any in these lands. I would dearly love to discuss the history of our people with you, perhaps over a glass of wine?"

Erestor sighed internally, but he really did not have anything better to do that evening. He might as well indulge this Elf, who he realized had failed to give his name. "Very well, if you give me a moment to finish tidying up, we can go back to my rooms. I assume you came with Lord Elrond?"

Elrond bit back a grin _ah, so he does not recognize me,_ he thought to himself, _I can surely use this to my advantage._ "Yes, I am of that company."

Having put away the last of his work, Erestor motioned to his companion to follow him. As they walked Erestor asked, "if you have heard rumor of my scholarship, then certainly you have heard rumor of my demeanor. Yet you sought me out anyway, pen neth, and I wonder why?"

Elrond heard the challenge in those words but also a plea, much fainter, and it saddened him that an Elf should know so much pain. While Erestor's isolation was certainly of his own making, how much it must sting to hear oneself spoken of as cold and aloof, for Erestor was right, he had heard the gossip. "'Twas my thirst for knowledge, Master Erestor. I may be a soldier now but if peace should come in my lifetime I would like to pursue healing and lore. Furthermore, while people here might think you cold, I have heard none that have called you cruel, and so I see no reason to fear you. An Elf of your age could not have remained untouched by tragedy in these hither lands, tragedy that touched my family as well. I do not see any malice in you, only a desire to prevent more pain."

It took all _of_ Erestor's self control not to gape at this Elf, truly his perception was uncanny and Erestor had no doubt he would be a remarkably gifted healer. He was almost tempted to open up further to the young Elf, but as he always had he resisted the urge. "I must admit you speak the truth, but come now, we are here. Let us discuss the lore of the Eldar as you desired."

 

Several hours and two goblets of wine later, Erestor was much more at ease, and Elrond decided to implement stage two of his plan. "So, tell me, what is the rarest book you have ever read?"

Erestor thought for a moment. "Probably Ingwë's account of the passage of the Eldar to Valinor. I enoyed it though it was a tad worshipful for my taste. The Valar are mighty, but not infallible, one need only to recall the fall of Melkor to see it."

"Ah, I know the tome you speak of, and I agree, it is the account of one who was spared much suffering even on that relatively tame voyage. Myself, 'twould probably be Fingon's account of the flight of the Noldor."

As Elrond had predicted, Erestor's eyes sparked at the mention of the manuscript. "Truly? There were a handful of copies in Gondolin, but I never got to read one."

Erestor looked as though he might go on, and then seemed to realize just what he had revealed to his companion and froze, immense sadness filling his brown eyes. _Glorfindel was right_ , Elrond mused, _they do resemble chocolate._

Elrond placed a comforting hand on Erestor's forearm. "I am sorry, I did not seek to remind you of your pain."

Erestor's hand covered Elrond's and he managed a small smile, "it is ok, you could not have known."

At this Elrond felt a pang of guilt, for he _had_ known, but it was for the greater good. "Another in my company has a copy, although I do not know how he came by it. Perhaps you could persuade him to let you borrow it?"

"Do you truly think so?" Erestor asked, some of his earlier enthusiasm returning.

"Yes, I do. He is quartered in the barracks with the rest of the soldiers, should you wish to seek him out."

Erestor nodded and Elrond struggled not to show the triumphance he felt. He had not spoken a word of Glorfindel to Erestor, and surely telling him that a soldier may be found in the barracks was nothing the crafty Ellon could not figure out for himself.

"Well, the hour grows late and I should take my leave. Goodnight Master Erestor and thank you for a most enjoyable evening."

"The pleasure was mine," Erestor replied graciously, and he had truly enjoyed the company, "good night-" Erestor frowned and broke off, realizing that he still did not know this Elf's name.

"Oh my apologies, how rude of me! You may call me Elrond." And with that the Peredhel Lord bowed and walked away, leaving a speechless archivist in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know I am definitely taking liberties regarding the timeline of the fall of Eregion and maybe some other events in the Second Age but I am trying to remain within canon as much as possible.


	9. Chapter 9

For five days, Erestor did his best not to think of his meeting with Lord Elrond at all. He was terribly flustered at not having recognized the Peredhel, for once Elrond had revealed himself Erestor had immediately placed his resemblance to his forefather Turgon, and quite sure the esteemed Elf-Lord was playing some kind of game to have allowed Erestor to treat him so familiarly.

However, Elrond had been right - the rare manuscript had captured his interest, and as his embarrassment faded the tantalization of having such a treasure within his reach grew, and Erestor made his way to the barracks.

Unfortunately for Elrond's plotting, Glorfindel was not there when his erstwhile lover arrived, and Erestor was instead greeted by two other soldiers who had been playing cards near the entrance.

"Mae govannen, sir. This is Maldithen and my name is Arion, may we be of assistance?"

Erestor bowed slightly in acknowledgement. "Perhaps. I spent some time the other night with... an Elf from your company. He said one of your number possesses a rare document written by Fingon Nolofinwion, and that I should ask to look at it. I am the archivist here in Eregion and such things interest me greatly."

The one who had been introduced as Maldithen raised a tawny eyebrow, "you would be Master Erestor, then. The one amongst my fellows who passed the night with you is lucky indeed." Just in case his meaning had not been clear enough, the Elf followed his proclamation with a wink.

Erestor, who had not been approached thusly by any Elf in the centuries since he had turned away Celebrimbor, looked as if he had just been given a very cold and very involuntary shower. Arion had the grace to be properly abashed by his friend's lack of manners and spoke up, "I apologize for my friend's coarseness, Master Erestor, he is young and must learn that such remarks are inappropriate. I think I saw Glorfindel with a book that might be what you're looking for, but he is at the practice fields right now. I could go fetch him if you would like?"

Now Erestor looked as if someone had dumped all the waters under the Helcaraxë over his head. He stammered, "no, it is not that urgent, please do not go to such trouble." Then he lurched towards the door and was gone before the soldiers could understand what had happened.

Arion fixed Maldithen with an angry stare, "I do hope he hasn't gone to report your thoughtless comments, as I refuse to aid you in your penance this time. I will not miss the Solstice festival with Elissë just because Elrond decides you should be mucking out the stables when we get back. Really! It was quite clear he did not come here for flirtation."

The younger Elf flushed, "you are right, meldiren, if I see him again I will apologize. Did you mark how he nearly fled once you mentioned Glorfindel, though?"

"I did. Could it be that Glorfindel is truly the Lord of the Golden Flower returned and Erestor knew him in Gondolin?"

"Perhaps. We shall mention it to Glorfindel when he finishes his practice."

Erestor paced the perimeter of his small office like a caged doe, his nervous agitation almost palpable. "Not possible," he kept repeating to himself, "not possible." He knew that if the Elf was not his Glorfindel returned he would be crushed, and might very well fade at last. He was less sure of what would happen if the Elf was the Glorfindel he knew in Gondolin. They were not betrothed when the warrior had died, much less bound - could his feelings have diminished during his stay in the Halls? Or maybe Glorfindel himself was so changed as to not be the Elf Erestor had loved and mourned for centuries? And certainly, the Elf with his love's name was still a soldier, even were he returned, Glorfindel could fall again.

For centuries, fear had guided Erestor's life, and it was fear that ultimately won out amid his inner turmoil. He would simply not meet this Elf. In due time, Elrond and his company would return to Lindon and Erestor would stay in Eregion, and his life would go on as before. His cherished memories from Gondolin would remain unsullied by dashed hopes or disillusionment.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Glorfindel was leaving the training grounds in an excellent mood. His golden hair was tied back into a single plait with little wisps sticking out here and there and clinging to the beads of sweat on his back. His shirt was untied and he held his boots over his shoulder by their laces, whistling an old folk tune as he walked to the showers near the barracks, anticipating the cool, refreshing water after a long workout on a hot spring day. Whatever else he could say about the Fëanorians, he appreciated their plumbing.

Glorfindel ambled into the barracks after his ablutions, finishing off a braid as he made his way to a chair by the window when he was intercepted by Arion and Maldithen. "Lord Glorfindel," hailed Maldithen. Glorfindel grimaced, he'd been hoping against hope that the youngsters would remain oblivious to his past, "we had a strange encounter with an Elf of Eregion, we think it had something to do with you."

Glorfindel felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. Had they met Erestor? What had they told him? What had he said? Struggling to remain casual, the blond warrior replied, "Oh? Pray tell, pen neth, what do I have to do with your embarassment at the hands of one from Eregion?"

Arion snorted and Maldithen replied, "well, he came here looking for some book written by Fingon Nolofinwion and I said I thought you might have it but then he fled like he'd seen a ghost."  
Arion began, "well, that's not the whole story, you-"

But Glorfindel cut him off, "did he give you a name, this Elf?"

"Well yes, he was Ma-"

"Lord Glorfindel!" A frantic page burst into the room. "My Lord Elrond wishes to speak to you at once in his chambers."

 

Glorfindel immediately got up to leave, as much as he wanted answers about the Elf who was almost certainly Erestor, he remembered too well the last time he'd had such an urgent summons. He laced up his boots then set off, tying and fastening as he went so that by the time he appeared before the door of Elrond's guest suite in Eregion he was in full uniform. He knocked and Lord Elrond himself came to the door and ushered him inside before locking the door behind them. "You sent for me, my Lord?"

"I did, meldiren, though as a friend just as much as a soldier. As you know, talks with Celebrimbor have been going well, especially since Annatar left some weeks ago. Well, today he told me something and it disturbs me greatly. I would ask for your counsel on this."

Glorfindel sat forward in his seat, "tell me, and I will advise you as best I can."

Elrond breathed deeply and began his tale, "apparently Annatar has had Celebrimbor craft Rings of Power for him, little bands of metal perhaps more powerful than the Silmarils-"

Glorfindel paled, remembering the unspeakable grief caused by the three Elf Stones.

"And Annatar has given them to Dwarfish and Mannish rulers. Apparently he also crafted Rings for the Elves, shortly before we arrived, but he had grown wary of Annatar, who had become increasingly demanding, and hid those Rings from him. Now that he has heard our news he is glad of it, but there are still sixteen Rings with immense capabilities loose in Middle Earth."

Glorfindel considered this for a moment, "there is also the matter of the three Elven Rings. If they stay here, Annatar, be he Sauron or no, will likely find them, and my heart tells me that would prove ill indeed."

"You are right, meldiren, and Celebrimbor has thought of that as well. He proposes that they be sent to those deemed the wisest in Elvendom: Galadriel in Lothlorien, Círdan in the Grey Havens, and the High King Gil-Galad himself. This solution seems well to me."

"I agree, we should contact those esteemed Elves with all speed and secrecy. As for the rest, something tells me they will make themselves known ere long. As much as it grieves me, it seems we must prepare again for war."

Elrond nodded, "it is as I expected, if not as I hoped. I thank you for your counsel, my friend. Yet I think there are other matters that also weigh on your mind, if you should like to unburden yourself, I am here."

Glorfindel was tempted, but he still resisted the pull of his heart in the face of what he believed were more serious matters. "You are right, Elrond, but it is not an urgent matter and I do not wish to discuss it now."

"Very well, but remember, my door is always open to you. You may go now, if you wish."

 

After Glorfindel had taken his leave, Elrond slouched back in his chair and implored the ceiling to save him from the stubbornness of his friend. He had a good idea of what troubled Glorfindel. Perhaps he should spend more time with Erestor instead, despite his ulterior motive he had truly enjoyed the archivist's company. Gil-Galad was right, he thought, I should spend more time with others outside of work, I had not realized how lonely I am.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hannon le = thank you  
> mellonen = my friend

The next evening found Elrond knocking on Erestor's door with a bottle of the red wine he'd noticed the other Elf favored. 

"My Lord, how may I be of assistance?" 

Elrond sighed, "Master Erestor, I simply wanted to apologize if I caused you any embarrassment by withholding my name, and ask if you would share this wine with me? Believe it or not, there are few I can talk to outside of work, and I truly enjoyed your company the other night." 

Erestor nervously adjusted the wrist of his robe. Despite his distress when he'd learned Elrond's identity, he had enjoyed the Peredhel's company. On the other hand, Elrond was extremely perceptive, and letting him in was a risk. 

Finally, unable and somewhat unwilling to find an excuse not to, Erestor stepped aside to let Elrond in. "Do not worry, my Lord, I should have recognized you after all." 

Elrond gave a small smile, "that's hardly reasonable, we'd never met before." 

Erestor nodded, "true, but you look a great deal like Turgon. Plus King Gil-Galad has spoken to me of you." 

Elrond chuckled, "has he? That's funny, we've spoken of you as well. I was curious about his source in Eregion. He trusts you, and having met you I think his trust is well placed." 

Erestor smiled tentatively, "thank you, my Lord. I do not know why so many of the Wise seek my counsel, but I strive to be worthy of it, even if I would rather be left to my books." 

Elrond's eyes softened with compassion, "even the wisest need good advice. Sometimes I feel unworthy of the regard his Majesty holds me in, but, like you said, I try to meet those expectations nonetheless. I think, too, that your reluctance is part of why your counsel is sought - those who are eager to give advice often have their own agendas." 

Erestor smirked, "you are young, my Lord, but certainly not naive. I can see why the King trusts you." 

Elrond laughed, "thank you, but please, call me Elrond, I would like to be your friend, and you owe me no allegiance." 

Erestor's face filled with melancholy, "I have no friends, save perhaps Lindir, and I have not for some time. Yet, against my better judgement, I find myself wanting to accept your offer, for I grow weary of being utterly alone." 

Elrond reached out to lay his hand over Erestor's, "I know the pain of losing loved ones. Both my parents and Maedhros and Maglor who raised me are gone from these lands, and my brother is lost to me completely. When I was very young Maglor told me of my father, and how he sailed the night sky. He told me that when Eärendil looked down upon Arda, he would want to see me happy, and I think the same is true for those you lost in Gondolin." 

Erestor's eyes were filled with tears, "hannon le, mellonen." 

They sat awhile in silence after that, until Erestor seemed to reach some sort of conclusion and turned again to Elrond, "I think," he began softly, "there is one I knew in your company. I have questions, but I am not yet ready to hear the answers. Yet, before you depart Eregion, I would like to hear what you know of Glorfindel of Gondolin." 

Elrond's smile was full of warmth and just a touch of triumph, "this I will do." 

 

The two Elves sat again in silence, until Erestor again broke it. "So, what are your plans after you depart?" 

"I am not sure, but it is likely I will head to Lothlòrien, Celebrimbor has requested the aid of Galadriel." 

Erestor smiled, "she was always kind to me, as was Celeborn, and Celebrían in her way. I almost followed them to the Golden Wood, but my need for solitude won out. Still, I should like to see them again." 

Elrond was smiling but clearly puzzled by something. "Celebrían?" 

Erestor laughed, "yes, their daughter. She was maybe 30 when they left, she must be about 400 by now." 

"Ah, right, I forgot they had a daughter. Galadriel comes to Lindon from time to time but I have never seen her." 

Erestor nodded, "that is not surprising, they do their best to shield her from much of the world. I think Galadriel resents her own upbringing in the public eye of Tirion a little, and seeks to spare her daughter the same scrutiny." 

Elrond hummed in agreement, "that makes sense, I am quite thankful my own childhood was spent in relative obscurity. Still, she is well past her majority now, I am surprised I have not seen her at least once." 

Erestor shrugged, "well, if you do continue to Lothlòrien, you might see her then." 

Elrond nodded, "perhaps."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an-uir = for all eternity  
> melethen = my love

It was nearly two weeks before Elrond worked up the nerve to approach Glorfindel. He knew it was better that he came clean about his meddling before Erestor was ready to hear about his erstwhile sweetheart, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to doing so. He truly hoped his interfering had not ruined what had quickly become his deepest friendship, although he had the feeling much would be forgiven if all went well with Erestor. _Elbereth_ , Elrond prayed silently, _please let them stop being obstinate fools long enough to see each others' hearts._

 

About half an hour later, Elrond was somewhat stunned and greatly relieved. "Well, truly, mellonen," Glorfindel said, waving his hand breezily, "I'd be more surprised if you hadn't done something after all these weeks, your need to fix what is broken is so strong 'tis almost a tangible thing. Before we entered Eregion I surrendered this matter to fate, and I leave it there. Just, one thing?"

"Anything, meldiren."

Glorfindel took a deep breath, "do not tell me his reasons should he love me not, please, I could not bear it."

Elrond placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "I understand, and I promise you will not hear such things from me."

Glorfindel returned the gesture, warmth and gratitude shining from bright blue eyes, "Thank you, Elrond. For all your meddling, your friendship has done much to mend my heart."

The half-Elf smiled back, and then the moment was broken by a trio of drunken soldiers staggering into the room. "Hoy, Goldie! Menion challenged Calendil to a wrestling match and we need a judge, care to volunteer?" The soldier swayed and then seemed to recognize Elrond for the first time. "Ai! Sorry M'Lord!" The inebriated Elf tried to execute a sweeping bow but lost his balance and ended up in a somersault.

Elrond burst out in hysterical laughter, "What say you, Goldie? Shall we go and referee?"

Glorfindel grimaced at the nickname but agreed, "I think we should, if just to see their faces when they realize who the judges are."

  
When Elrond went to meet Erestor that evening for drinks and a round of chess, he was still in high spirits from carousing with Glorfindel and the troops, and the archivist noticed. "Good evening, meldiren, clearly you had a better day than mine - I spent three hours trying to track down a book that had been mis-shelved, only to find it on my desk!"

Elrond courteously tried to smother his laughter, "I must admit I have been party to such folly myself, on occasion. But yes, I had a rather entertaining afternoon with Glorfindel judging drunk Elves' wrestling contests." 

The smile slid from Erestor's face at Glorfindel's name and Elrond mentally kicked himself, "I'm sorry, Erestor, I did not mean-"

Erestor composed himself, "it is alright, meldiren. I realize now that I cannot run from this forever, nor do I wish to. I... I would like you to tell me of Glorfindel, please? Is the soldier in your company truly the golden Lord returned?"

Elrond nodded, and indicated that they should sit down, "aye, they are one and the same. Glorfindel was returned from Mandos shortly before winter, burdened by a baffling guilt. Eventually it came out that he blamed himself greatly for Gondolin's fall, feeling as he did that he neglected his duties in pursuit of your love."

Here, Erestor bit his lip but retained his composure.

"I helped him to see that he was wrong, and he has begun to heal. His love for you, however, is as strong as it ever was, so much so that the prospect of facing you has cowed him as the demons of Morgoth could not. I will not push you to return his sentiments if you do not, nor will I resent you for it, but I do entreat you to deal gently with him, for he has become a close friend and a good one."

Erestor sat absolutely still, chocolate eyes brimming with tears that he struggled to hold back, "all this time. He has loved me all this time. I know now why my heart would not let me sail, why-" he broke off and just stared through his window at the setting sun, and when he turned back to Elrond his teary smile was achingly beautiful as the rainbows that result when Anor shines through the rain. "Take me to him. Please, meldiren, I have wasted too much time already, bring me to Glorfindel."

Elrond smiled, silently thanking the Lady of Stars who had seemingly answered his prayer. "Let us go then."

 

Elrond stood at the threshold to the soldiers' sleeping quarters where Glorfindel lay sprawled on his bunk reading the same book that had started the Peredhel's scheming. Erestor approached quietly and Glorfindel did not seem to notice the figure that now stood beside him. The tableau froze momentarily before Elrond cleared his throat, looking down at his fingernails and smiling to himself as Glorfindel's head shot up. The golden Elf's confusion lasted only seconds before he spotted Erestor. Silence reigned again as they each stared at a face they had not thought to see again in Middle Earth, and then it was broken by both Elves at almost the same instant.

"You're here."

"Don't leave me."

"Never again," was Glorfindel's hushed promise as he stood, reverently gazing down into beloved chocolate eyes, his fingers running wonderingly through dark hair as if to assure himself that this was real, "I would stay with you always if you would have me."

Erestor looked up adoringly and pressed a soft kiss on the edge of Glorfindel's mouth before responding, "an-uir, melethen. The Valar have answered my prayers this day."

Glorfindel's blue eyes glittered and darkened, and he cupped Erestor's cheek and returned his kiss, claiming the lips of his long-missed love who eagerly twined his arms around the taller Elf's neck.

 

Elrond stood at the doorway for a short while, and as an Age of pain and suffering seemed to melt away for his two friends while he watched, the scars on Elrond's own heart faded a little more. He smiled and left silently, being sure to lock the door, as he doubted anything would distract the two Ellyn inside from each other anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - I've really been struggling with this chapter. The good news is that this story arc is almost done and there's lots more to come! (seriously though, finishing this series will probably take years, day dreaming in the shower has the same danger as setting out on the road hehehe).


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The sex! Finally!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> penen vell = my dear one  
> nin = my, mine  
> melethronen = my lover  
> berethen = my spouse  
> inden = my heart  
> faeren = my soul  
> cuilen = my life  
> hröa = body  
> saes = please  
> seron vell = beloved

Erestor broke the kiss with a gasp, needing to draw breath. He did not realize he had been crying until he felt Glorfindel kiss the tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Do not cry penen vell, I am here now. An-uir, Erestor nin, always."

Erestor captured Glorfindel in another breath-stealing kiss in the way of a reply, and the warrior Elf felt his legs begin to melt underneath him. He sank down onto the edge of the low bunk, pulling Erestor to his knees as he refused to relinquish his embrace on the one he had yearned for through so many lonely centuries.

Glorfindel's body was on fire, but he did not want to rush things with Erestor, who, for all his years, knew little of lovers' passions. "We can wait, melethen, we have all of time for me to love you as you deserve," Glorfindel whispered, his words somewhat belied by his fingers' desperate grip in Erestor's dark hair and his shallow breathing.

Erestor shook his head, "we do not know what the morrow will bring. Should fate separate us once more, I would know you in every way, that I might remember while I wait for you to find me again. Mellonen," Erestor kissed Glorfindel's hand, "melethen," Erestor kissed his brow, "melethronen," his cheek, "berethen."

At this heartfelt declaration Glorfindel groaned and pulled Erestor tight against him, cradling the back of his head and kissing him soundly. "Yes. I cannot refuse you what is my deepest wish as well." He brought his hands around, following the delicate line of Erestor's collarbone to the first clasp of his lover's robe. "Inden," he intoned as he undid the fastening, moving onto the next, "faeren. Cuilen." Glorfindel let the robe fall and Erestor now knelt in only his leggings. The golden Elf doffed his own shirt and kissed Erestor again, coaxing him to lie back so he was on top of Glorfindel, half on and half off the bunk. His hands fell to the top of Erestor's waistband, and he paused. "How shall I show thee how well I love thee?" The question was in formal Quenya, the language of Glorfindel's youth and of Elven ritual. His meaning, and the profound love he held for Erestor, were clear.

"Take me," Erestor breathed, "hröa and fëa, I would be yours."

"And I, yours." Glorfindel caressed the side of Erestor's face, losing himself in the eyes of the most perfect Elf he had ever known. "I thank Lord Nàmo, keeper of the dead, for returning me to the keeper of my heart, and Lady Estë, healer of bodies and souls, for letting grief and guilt give way to love. I call upon Eru Illuvatar to bear witness that I, Glorfindel, give myself to Erestor for all time, and to bless our binding."

Erestor had never been happier, and in a tiny corner of his mind that was not occupied with Glorfindel, was thankful that Elven marriage required no ceremony or witnesses. "I thank Lady Vairë, weaver of fate, for bringing the threads of our lives together, and Lord Irmo, bringer of dreams, for the hope to await this blessed day. I call upon Eru Illuvatar to bear witness that I, Erestor, give myself to Glorfindel for all time, and to bless our binding."

And so it was done. The two Elves came together in a frenzy, eager to seal their bond to each other in full. Glorfindel pushed Erestor's leggings down and he kicked them off, his own followed suit. He rolled Erestor over so they were both fully on the bunk with Glorfindel on top and kissed him, trailing his hand down the smaller Elf's side until it rested on Erestor's hip, inches away from his straining arousal. Erestor whimpered and arched up, begging for contact. Glorfindel obliged, albeit teasingly, brushing his fingers up and down against his lover while starting to kiss his way down Erestor's fevered body. He stopped when he reached his destination, savoring the new and beautiful sight. "Lovely," he whispered, before taking Erestor into his mouth all at once. Erestor cried out his pleasure and shook with the novel sensation of another's mouth upon him. Then all too soon Glorfindel released him with a flick of the tongue to the ridge of his member that left him reeling and was kissing his way back up to gaze down into Erestor's eyes once more.

"Are you certain you would sheath me this eve? I know you have never done this before, and it would please me just as well to complete our bond beneath you." Glorfindel's blue eyes were shining and his words were completely in earnest - all that mattered was that it was Erestor who shared his bed and his body.

"Oh, aye, Glorfindel, I need to feel you within me, to know you are a part of me I cannot lose. Another time I will be thrilled to take you, but please, grant me this tonight."

"I can deny you nothing, melethen, and I will do all I can to make this good for you." He pressed a kiss to Erestor's brow and reached over him to retrieve a small canister of oil normally used for sharpening weapons. "I will cherish you, heart and mind, hröa and fëa."

Then Glorfindel was sliding back down, suckling his lover even as he coated his fingers with the oil. He trailed his hand down, fondling Erestor's sac before finding his entrance and teasing it, circling with his well oiled finger. Erestor came in Glorfindel's mouth, and Glorfindel used the moment of rapture to press his finger in to the knuckle. Erestor's pants turned to gasps as Glorfindel started to move, stretching him and adding another finger.

"Ai, Glorfindel nin, saes, saes, I need you so!"

"Shh, just one more, meleth, I will not hurt you."

Glorfindel finished preparing Erestor as quickly as he could, before slicking his shaft with the oil and positioning himself at Erestor's entrance. "Now, seron vell, I am yours."

Erestor gave a sharp cry, for it did hurt, but the burning subsided once Glorfindel was in past the head, and he was stroking Erestor back to hardness, whispering sweet, comforting nonsense and showering him with kisses. Glorfindel shifted above him, and Erestor cried out again, but this time in pleasure. Glorfindel grinned and started thrusting, slowly at first but then faster, and as they ascended into bliss, they could feel the binding of their fëar, their spirits coming together as surely as their bodies, and Erestor wept for the joy of Glorfindel filling him so completely, and Glorfindel was elated at knowing Erestor so well.

Despite his earlier release, it was Erestor who finished first, keening and clinging to his lover. Glorfindel followed suit, and Erestor felt his lover's seed inside him just as he was coming down.

They lay in comfortable silence in a tangled, sticky, and satisfied heap for awhile, and Erestor was almost lulled to sleep by Glorfindel's heartbeat when a knock at the door jolted them back to reality. Glorfindel realized the Elrond had locked the door and chuckled ruefully, "I suppose we should let my comrades seek their beds, but I do not wish to be parted from you. Perhaps we should seek yours?"

"Aye," Erestor answered simply, and the two rose and dressed haphazardly, striding out of the barracks past Glorfindel's mirthful bunkmates.

 

Their newly-wedded contentment lasted but a week, before Sauron, for Annatar was indeed the fallen Maia, returned to lay seige to Eregion. Elrond knew his small company had no chance against an army the size of which the dark Lord lead, and turned his efforts to the escape of Eregion's civilians. They would proceed with all haste to the nearest Elven realm under the eaves of Lothlorien, and then the Eldar would wage war once more.

Celebrimbor, however, remained with his army to stand against Sauron, his need for vengeance at being so deceived overruling the hopelessness of the situation. Elrond heard of Celebrimbor's capture just a day from the fences of Lorien. He turned to Glorfindel, who was with him when the bedraggled messenger came, ahead of the sorry remains of Eregion's army, and murmured, "he has made his final stand against evil, as it was with Turgon, Fingon, Fingolfin, and Fëanor himself before him. The Noldor indeed pay their penance dearly." Then the Peredhel Lord left to mourn alone the last of his Fëanorian kin.

  
It was decided in Lorien that Elrond's company, along with another small company of Galadhrim, would take those refugees who wished to go to Lindon, with the rest being free to make their home in the golden wood. Then the armies of Lorien would ride out to meet their foe, and would be joined by the full might of the High King.

 

* * *

 

On their way to Lindon, they made camp in a sheltered river valley. It was a beautiful place, and Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Lindir, who had become Erestor's friend in full and remained close to him throughout their journey, agreed that they would like to return there. And so it came to pass that the haven of Imladris was built, and years later, at the dawn of the Third Age, Glorfindel and Erestor had a public wedding celebration, and all the residents of the Last Homely House were delighted to share in the eternal happiness of their Captain and Chief Counselor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, I played with the timeline a little bit, but oh well. I hope you enjoyed this story and if you want more, you can check out the next story I'm writing for this series, The One with Gimli and Aredhel. I've given up on writing them in order since it's much easier to write the stories that occur after the Third Age, but rest assured I will get back to Elrond and Celebrian (the story that chronologically follows this one) and the rest that are set in Middle Earth and require more research.


End file.
